Chapter 52: Ophelia
Lucius Thorne of Palatine. The second prince.
Not Lucas. A pity. She had endured enough from Misty to get her anger off of him. It would have been nice.
Ophelia stepped fully into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. Her gaze didn’t linger. She’d been taught never to gawk at royalty. Admire, yes. Assess, always. But gawk? That was for new money and journalists.
Lucius didn’t stand. His rank exempted him from this chore unless someone higher in rank than him entered the room. His posture had the stillness of someone who didn’t have to move to own the room. His coat, perfectly cut, rested over the chair beside him. His gloves were off. That meant he planned to stay.
Which also meant she wouldn’t be going back to class.
Good.
"Your Highness," she greeted, dropping a shallow curtsy with exactly the right degree of insincerity. "I wasn’t aware I had such distinguished fans."
Lucius didn’t blink. "Sit."
She did, her smile never faltering as she folded herself neatly into the seat opposite his. She tilted her head, letting her hair catch the light. A little naïve. A little delicate. Just enough to make older men underestimate her.
He didn’t.
"I’ll be brief," Lucius said, and opened the folder on his lap. "You’ve had regular contact with Adelia Caston."
Ophelia let her expression flicker with innocent confusion, the kind carefully calibrated to be plausible. "My old etiquette coach?"